Imaginary
by Shini02
Summary: DISCONTINUED - Fantasy binds our world to theirs, but make–believe is a double–edged sword. Ch. 3: Post–Impact: He crashed and burned and had the strangest dream.
1. Worlds Collide

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything except my OFC and this ficlet.

* * *

**Worlds Collide**

The clouds mask the moon slowly in their misty veil, and her eyes are locked onto that strange glow that lingers behind. Her heart pounds inside her chest as the clouds creep slowly away, revealing the full moon once more. The moonlight glows brighter, the moon itself pulsates, mimicking a heartbeat. With one hand placed over her heart, she reaches to the sky with the other, and it seems as though the stars themselves are within her grasp.

But it is not a star she takes hold of. His feathers are soft, his grip is strong, and the world around them disappears into that wondrous, otherworldly glow for a few moments until the shift is over and she can feel the warmth of sand beneath her feet and the chill of the ocean breeze blowing passed her.

"You can open your eyes now," he says, his voice harsh and unusual, his words are almost incomprehensible. Her brow furrows as her eyes open up slowly, her gaze lowering to his feathered face. Her heart begins to race again, and the waves wash up a little higher against the shore.

He flexes his wing against her palm, his first attempt to release himself a gentle one. "You can also let go now," he mumbles, brow furrowing.

The sky darkens a little. "No," she pleads, the thunder suddenly sounding in the distance mirroring the throb inside her chest. "Don't let go."

He cocks his head to the side, confused. "What is this?" he mumbles, and the sounds to follow are intangible as he shakes his head and wrenches himself free. "Let go. I don't have to hold your hand."

Lightning strikes, thunder roars and the sky unleashes its fury as she reaches for him again, reaches _through_ him until she is stumbling forward. She braces herself with one hand pressed to the cool glass of her bedroom window. Her chest rises and falls with each deep breath she takes as she sinks to her knees, her hand leaving moist streaks behind on the window pane as her palm is dragged across it.

_It was all in my head_, she thinks. _God, Mika, what is wrong with you? You're too old to play make-believe._

That is when she realizes she still clutches her shirt tight, and there's something pressed against her palm that does not feel like her tank top. Trembling, she othe hand that had been pressed to her heart and gasps as a somewhat crumpled feather falls from her palm and to the floor.

_This isn't possible..._

Before she can gather the courage to take into her hand again, the feather dissolves into a dust that seems to rise and vanish into the moonlight. Looking skyward, her breath hitches in her throat once more; the moon glows bright and throbs like a heart that beats anxious and confused, worlds away.


	2. Break from Reality

**Break from Reality**

_You look tired._

"I am," she sighed, flopping down onto the couch.

_Why not take a little break?_

"I think I need one," she mumbled, running a hand over her face. "Not only am I hearing voices, but I'm talking back to them." The chuckle to follow was hollow, her mind wandering from present to past momentarily. She could clearly remember that night – the moon, the beach, _him_ – but it was hard to believe it was anything more than just her imagination running rampant.

_Aw, phooey_. The voice in the back of her mind mumbled incomprehensible things, though she was sure she clearly heard _stubborn kid_ and _waste of my damn time _within the irate babble. She shook her head to rid herself of the rasp, of the memory, too tired to dwell on the matter, and allowed sleep to beckon her into its peaceful darkness, slowly and surely.

--

"Wake up!"

Soft touches on her arms and side made her stir, breaking her out of the serene sleep, making her aware of the harsh sunlight beating down against her. Before opening her eyes, she rose up one hand to block out the sun's rays.

"Oh, she's awake!"

"Give her some room, guys."

Mika groaned inwardly as she sat herself up, keeping her gaze downward. Opening her eyes proved to be difficult regardless of her efforts to dodge the sunlight, as it seemed to glint off of the very sand she sat upon, so pristine.

"Where am I?" She asked, certain she had fallen asleep on the couch in her living room and not on the beach.

"The Destiny Islands!"

Feathered hands on hers made her shudder and tense, and she looked up hesitantly. However, the face to greet her gaze was not quite what she expected. She cocked her head to one side as she regarded the young duck in the green t-shirt and matching baseball cap.

"Who – who are you?"

"I'm Louie," said the one wearing green, then he gestured to the other two ducklings at his side. "And these are my brothers, Huey," he pointed to the one in red, then to the one in blue, "and Dewey."

"We're here with Unca Donald on vacation!" Huey exclaimed, taking one of Mika's wrists into both of his feathery hands and urged her up onto her knees.

"King Mickey gave him and Goofy some time off, 'cause they did so good fighting and stuff," Dewey continued on for his brother, taking Mika by the other wrist and helping Huey hoist her up onto her feet. Louie took hold of the hem of her shirt and kept her as steady as possible.

"Uncle Donald?" Mika mumbled, gently releasing herself from Dewey's grip and running a hand across her face. "King Mickey? Goofy? _What_ are you three talking about?"

The triplets snickered and Huey began to walk backward, leading her down the stretch of beach with Louie scampering behind to give her that extra push she seemed to need.

"Nevermind the King and Goofy. We think you already know Unca Donald," Dewey beamed as he walked at her side, his wings folded behind his back, fingers laced together.

"This is crazy," she mumbled to herself, her free hand falling to her side again. In no time, Dewey opted to take her hand in his once more. "This isn't real."

"Sure it's real," Louie said, chuckling, watching her steps to make sure he didn't step on her heels.

"Yeah," Huey spoke up, tugging on her wrist to get her attention. "You're here, aren'tcha?"

"What's your point?" Mika responded, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well," Dewey said, gaining her attention from Huey, "you're as real as we are."

"So," Louie said, "if we're not real, neither are you."

Her heart gave an anxious leap and the wind picked up in time. "I... I suppose you have a point," she mumbled quietly.

The three ducklings chuckled again. "Of course we have a point. We know about these things," Dewey explained.

"What things?" Mika asked.

"Other worlds," Huey replied before Dewey could, earning himself a glare from his brother.

"Other worlds?"

"That's what I said. Sheesh, are you hard of hearing?" Huey teased.

"_There are many worlds, but they share the same sky – one sky, one destiny_," Dewey went on. "At least, that's what we've heard."

"And you believe that?" Mika inquired, playing her bottom lip between her teeth.

Huey gave her wrist another tug. He was smiling when she turned to face him. "You're here, aren'tcha?" he repeated, and her heart pounded inside her chest once more, confused and hopeful – because who wouldn't want a way out of the mundane and into a world as wondrous as this?

_Ok, you win, _she thought bittersweetly as she looked to the cloudless sky. _I believe in this. In all of it._

"There he is!" Dewey shouted, pointing with his free hand toward a small group of people not too far away. Mika didn't have to ask _who_ they were talking about, she recognized the older duck from the other night. He was resting up against a large boulder, wearing only blue swimming trunks, and seemed to be immersed in conversation with a young boy and a bipedal dog. The other two wore bathing suits as well; the boy in dark blue trunks, and the dog in a pair colored moss green.

"Oh, God," Mika muttered, raising a hand to cover her mouth, the other instinctively reaching for her heart. She grasped the material of her shirt tightly and the waves rolled up higher on the shore.

The triplets grinned to one another mischievously as they released her all together, letting her remain frozen with her gaze fixated on their uncle. "You stay here," Louie said as he walked out from behind her, "we'll be right back." He winked then ran on ahead with his brothers at his side before Mika even had a chance to think of a protest.

She watched in slight horror as they spoke to their uncle, and the sense of dread only grew when Huey pointed toward her. The dog then stood up, waving to her with one hand and using the other to cup the side of his muzzle to amplify his voice.

"Heya! Why don'tcha come on over?"

Childishly, Mika gasped and pointed to herself. "Me?" she mouthed.

The dog laughed loudly. "Ah-hyuck! O'course you! Do ya see anyone else I could be talkin' to? Now, c'mon! Don't be shy."

Mika groaned and fought the urge to slap a hand against her face. This was embarrassing on more than one level, but she started walking toward them slowly even though she felt weak in the knees. The way Donald was suddenly standing and glowering at her with his wings crossed over his chest didn't help her much, either.

She stopped when she came into arm's reach of the dog, whose arm was outstretched and hand was offered in a friendly fashion. Chuckling sheepishly, Mika took his gloved hand into hers and allowed him to shake it a little too enthusiastically for her liking.

"Hello!" he beamed, "I'm Goofy!" Motioning with his free hand to the boy, he introduced him, "and this here's Sora."

"Hi," Sora said, smiling and waving abruptly.

"N-nice to meet you, Goofy. Sora," Mika said quietly, pulling her hand free of Goofy's grasp and rubbing at her wrist for a moment. "I'm Mika."

"We know. The triplets here told us all about you," Goofy fisted his hands and placed them on his hips. "It's a pleasure t'meet ya, too."

"Speak for yourself," Donald muttered, still glaring at her.

Goofy's brow furrowed and he turned to look at Donald. "Now, there's no need t'be nasty, Donald. I'm sure she was just confused before and didn't know any better."

"I don't care," Donald snapped.

"I'm sorry?" Mika offered an apology, frowning. "Goofy's right. I really thought that – "

"None of this was real," Donald finished for her.

The sun was dimmed by a small cloud suddenly creeping across the sky.

"Hey, guys," Sora said, suddenly slinging an arm around Goofy's as he glanced meaningfully at the triplets, "why don't we go see if we can find Riku and Kairi?"

"I thought they were just – " Goofy's statement was cut short when Sora hoisted himself up onto the dog's back and slapped both hands onto his muzzle, holding his mouth shut.

"We should see if we can find them," Sora said slowly through gritted teeth, faking a reassuring smile as he eyed Mika and Donald wearily. "Right, Goofy?"

The metaphorical light bulb flickered on and Goofy chuckled sheepishly, nodding as Sora slid down his back. "That's right! We should!"

"Great!" Sora laughed forcibly and took Goofy by the wrist; the triplets were already running on ahead, laughing to themselves. "Well, we'll see you guys later. Have fun," Sora winked before he started dragging Goofy away. "Oh, and it was nice meeting you, Mika!"

"Hey – wait – " Donald called out, watching as his friends and nephews shamelessly abandoned him. "Aw, phooey. Who needs 'em?" He muttered and slunk back against the rock to resume glaring at Mika. The young woman was staring at him through her lashes, playing her hands together nervously. He muttered something under his breath as he looked to the side.

"Quit it," he grumped somewhere amongst the drivel.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"That, too," Donald said harshly. "You don't have to apologize. It's understandable." He looked at her from the corner of his eye, then turned to face her entirely. "Insulting, but understandable."

Unable to meet his wide-eyed, piercing gaze, Mika ducked her head and dug the toe of her shoe into the sand, peeking at Donald only through her lashes. "If there's anything I can do to make it up to you..."

The duck murmured as he tapped his bottom bill with a finger thoughtfully. "I think," he said, standing himself up, "there is something you can do."

"What is it?" Mika inquired.

Donald slowly extended a wing, holding out a hand to her. "Stay awhile."

She eyed his hand, then looked back to his face. Her fingers twitched as tentatively took his hand in hers, and her flesh touching his feathers sent a warmth surging through her. She smiled.

"Sure. For awhile."

He smiled that rare smile of his back.

The clouds vanished and sun shone a little brighter.


	3. Post–Impact

**Post-Impact**

"Pull up, Launchpad!" Donald shouted from the ground, watching with wide eyes as the plane began its quick decent to the ground in a stomach-churning spiral. "Pull _up_!"

"I'm trying!" the pilot of the old world biplane shouted back down to the mage on the ground, one hand on the yoke, the other moving frantically over the other controls. Maybe if he flicked every switch and pushed very button, he wouldn't crash this time around.

He had no such luck. "Oh, man," he groaned and pulled his hands back when the sparks began to fly, then gave a shout just as the engine gave up its stubborn fight for life, its hum fading into mechanical choking, then into silence.

His eyes closed and the wind rushing passed his ears seemed to whistle as down, down, down he went until the descent came to a sudden stop. Very slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at the wreckage he was trapped within; it could have been better but he had surely seen – and been through – worse. He took in a deep breath and leaned back in his seat, then exhaled slowly.

After he collected himself, he swiveled around as much as he could and clambered out of the wreck carefully. Once on the ground, he turned to face his plane and smiled half-heartedly, running a hand lightly across a broken wing, careful not to apply too much pressure and further the damage.

And for a moment, when his hand slid right _through_ the machine, he thought maybe he had pressed a little too hard anyway. It was when he felt like he was floating, even though he was _sinking_ like a weight through the ground, that he realized something was seriously wrong.

Up to his chest in the ground and sinking faster than he would have liked, he muttered to himself, "another wormhole? Just my luck..."

After his head had slipped beneath the ground, he drifted like a feather through the air, colors and darkness and warmth rushing passed him faster than he was falling until it all stopped. His feet touched solid ground, cool even through the leather of his boots, and it was hard to see through the dim light of the room he'd found himself in.

It looked liked a simple living room, but he had learned very quickly that not everything was as it seemed, so he kept his guard up, ready for just about anything.

Except the sound of a quiet gasp coming from somewhere behind him. He whirled around on his heel, stumbling a little afterward, squinting to see better through the dark.

"Who's there?" he asked, voice trembling more than he would have liked. For once – just once – he would have liked to sound stern and give someone no reason to doubt him.

"I should be asking you that," Mika replied, stepping into her living room slowly, cocking her head to the side as she regarded the otherworldly stranger.

He cleared his throat, understanding that _he_ was the intruder in this place – her home. "The name's Launchpad," he said, extending a wing, hand open and ready to accept hers should she feel like giving it. "Launchpad McQuack. And you are?"

"Mika," she said, slowly putting her hand in his. The shake was quick; his grip was too firm and her hand was too small. "How did you get here?" she asked after she'd pulled her hand back.

"I'm not really sure," he laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was flyin', then I crashed and fell through the ground and wound up here."

Mika chuckled and nodded, understanding but not willing to fill in the blanks. "By chance, do you know Donald and Goofy?"

The duck nodded, then gawked at her. "Waitasec. How do you know them?"

She smiled and Launchpad felt that warmth surge through him again. "Maybe I'll tell you some other time. If we ever meet again."

He stepped closer, reached for her and stopped when he noticed his hand was beginning to fade. "What's going on?" he asked, voice rising slightly in panic.

"Nothing to worry about," she told him, running her fingers over his ghost-like palm.

"But – I – "

Mika looked outside and the moon was pulsating. Her smile softened as she looked back to Launchpad. "Shh. If we ever meet again, I promise I'll tell you – because I know Donald won't talk about all this. He doesn't have the patience."

Launchpad could only utter an incomprehensible groan before his voice was stolen away from him. His beak moved but no words were spoken.

"Wake up," Mika whispered, and his heart beat faster.

In the distance, thunder roared despite there not being a cloud in sight.

--

"Do ya think he's alright?" Goofy asked as he leaned over the younger duck, head cocked to the side, fingers playing nervously together.

"I think he's death proof," Donald muttered before sighing. He took a few steps back, ushering Goofy back as well, then rose one hand and conjured up a mild electrical current, willing it to strike Launchpad.

Sure enough, the other drake gasped and opened his eyes. When he tried to sit up, Goofy urged him to lay back down. "Are you ok there, Launchpad?"

Launchpad groaned and put a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "Oh, my head... What happened?"

"You crashed," Donald said. "What else is new?"

"Crashed. Right," Launchpad murmured as he opened his eyes again. "I had the strangest dream while I was out."

"Save it," Donald grumped, crossing his wings over his chest.

"There was this girl," the pilot said. "She wasn't from around here, that was for sure."

Donald let out a short quack of surprise. Goofy rose a brow and asked, "What'd she look like?"

"I don't really know," Launchpad admitted. "It was too dark to see."

"Good," Donald huffed, taking hold of one of Launchpad's wrists and pulling him up to his feet a little clumsily. "Now enough about dreams and go clean up," the mage ordered, pointing toward Disney Castle. "You stink like fuel."

The other duck saluted – why, Donald had no idea – then staggered all the way to the castle's entrance.

"D'ya think...?" Goofy questioned, running a finger against his bottom lip in thought.

"I don't know," Donald replied. "I really don't know."

"If it was Mika – "

"Then she has my sympathy," Donald said, shaking his head with a lopsided smirk on his beak. Goofy chuckled.


End file.
